Toot, toot.

Let me regale you in a tale that happened last April, 2007. It is a day that will go down in history as a day proving just want a wonderful, charming, delicate little princess I am.

I was rolling around on the bed helping Shawn clean my computer of dust while he was putting an extra fan inside the case. While I was rolling about, I must have stirred up several demons of the fiery pit also known as my stomach. I did this thing, which we as all girls and women do–a thing which most of us desperately attempt to deny we even have. That thing, which apparently, is legendary and something we ladies of high class aren’t supposed to do.

I farted.

Or as some of the blue-haired astute southern ladies I have been exposed too due to Shawn, I tooted. Or according to his grandmother, rose petals and sunshine on the backs of unicorns licking lollipops came out of my behind.

Anyway, after passing gas I decided that the best course of action was to be quick and witty.

“Memory foam,” I loudly declare, patting out tempur pedic whatsimacallit mattress. “Not only does it remember the shape of your body, it remembers your stank!”

Looking back, I realize now that perhaps that wasn’t the most intellegent thing I’ve ever come up with on the fly. Shawn wasn’t able to continue putting the computer back together after that, he was too busy laughing until he cried.

I leave you now with the delightful image of rose petals, sunshine, and unicorns coming out of my butt.